the sound of footsteps,
which curl up my toes
the distant worlds,
that make fresh tears roll
when each and every well in this form
becomes deserted,
drier than the autumn leaves but wailing,
retching, howling with the wind
cannot long for a summer shower
so i beg for a typhoon.
it may completely rip me out but then i can
grip this truth for a little longer
tick and tok
with winter i have the typhoon i begged for,
breath of relief and a some more hope
i like the storm and how better it feels like home
even when all this time long I’ve been living on the shore
Mandavi Sharma